


Find Comfort in the Looking-Glass

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Collars, Cuddling and Snuggling, Kink Meme, Kinky, M/M, Mirror Universe, Sexual Slavery, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-06
Updated: 2010-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic





	Find Comfort in the Looking-Glass

From the moment Scotty beams him up, Spock knows something is very, very wrong. It hadn't been like any other time with the transporter -- it had taken longer, felt more funny than usual. For a moment he'd thought he wouldn't resurface at all, and now he's on the Enterprise but it's not _his_ Enterprise -- the uniforms are wrong, the expressions on people's faces are off. He backs slowly, defensively, against the back wall of the transporter pad, into a crouch. _Where is Sir? Sir should be waiting here._

Scotty fixes him with a very odd look. "What're yeh _wearing_ , Mr. Spock?" he asks, and Spock looks down, frowning, wondering if his clothes, too, have changed. But no, they're the same white slave robes he's always worn, shot with silver thread, the same intricate bracelets on his wrists -- he reaches up, and breathes a sigh of relief. The same gleaming metal collar around his neck. _Sir will be here. Sir will be here._

Crew members bustle around, eyeing him strangely, and then the turbolift opens and thank _God_ , it's the Captain. Spock slides forward quickly, gracefully, on hands and knees, ending up at the Captain's feet. His eyes stay down, and only his breathing registers relief. Vulcans are not emotional creatures, not in public anyway. But Spock is glad to have found something familiar in this strange new ship.

"Spock?" The Captain sounds worried, confused. "What the hell are you wearing? Get up, man, and tell me what happened down there."

Spock blinks in confusion. "Sir, I... I believe there was a transporter malfunction. The ship is... all wrong." And the Captain, he realizes, may be -- no. He refuses to believe that the Captain is _not_ his Master, his protector. For all that Spock is intelligent, physically strong, he has lived his life as a slave, and he cannot defend himself without the Captain's protection. "Sir, please, I..."

"Scotty, what's going on? Did the transporter malfunction?"

"Aye, Captain, there was a... disturbance of some sort, but he's here in one piece, just... different."

"Any ideas?"

"I don't... statistically it's highly improbable, but it's possible he's from some... alternate universe."

"Please tell me black holes aren't involved."

"No black holes, Captain. An ion storm, in fact. But I don't think this is... our Spock."

"Sir," Spock whispers, feeling the walls closing in. "Sir, please..." The Captain crouches down then, on his level, and Spock's eyes go to him in his shock. The Captain frowns.

"It's all right," he says soothingly, like a human mother would to a child. "Come with me." Spock falls to his hands in relief, and if the Captain is surprised when he crawls to the turbolift, he doesn't say.

"Tell me about your world," the Captain requests when they're in his quarters, Spock kneeling comfortably at his feet. He misses the gentle touch of the Captain's hand in his hair, its possessive drift down to the back of his neck and his collar. He has no idea where to begin.

"Sir, I..."

"Start with that. Why do you call me Sir, even in private? My Spock calls me Jim."

Spock frowns at the floor. "Your... Spock, Sir?"

"Yes. There's a version of you, here, in this version of reality. But he's gone, and here you are. You do have... logic, right? I mean, you're following everything that's going on, you have your own theories?"

Spock frowns. Of course he does, it's as natural as breathing, but his Captain has never asked for those theories, and Spock has never volunteered them. He takes a deep breath, trying to push aside his stressed state, his need for praise and adoration or at least that sense of _possessiveness_ that his Captain always shows. It's clear he's not going to get it.

"Yes, Sir. Mr. Scott's reasoning is sound. I believe that an anomaly somehow caused me to end up in this reality and -- most likely -- for your Spock to end up in mine."

  
"Oh, Jesus," the Captain breathes. "All right, well... Scotty's working on a solution, but for now, answer my question. Why Sir?"

The direct order is more comfortable than anything Spock could imagine right now, and he sighs with relief, slumping a little. "Sir because you are human, and also my Master. It is a term of respect used by all slaves for humans."

"All _slaves_?" The Captain reaches down and tips Spock's face up with a hand on his chin. His face is disturbingly pale.

"Yes, Sir. Are Vulcans... not slaves, in your world?"

The Captain's eyes widen. "Oh Jesus. You mean... Spock... my Spock... he's in a world where he's a _slave_? Christ, he'll take out half the people in the room the minute he figures it out."

"Take them out? What do you mean, Sir?"

"Y'know with the..." The Captain waves a hand frantically. "The pinch, thing. Or his _phaser_ , Spock, what else do you..."

"Vulcans are permitted to carry phasers in your world?"

"Well _yeah_. Oh Jesus Christ, we've got to get him back, what if they..."

"Sir," Spock interjects quietly, respectfully. "If your Spock arrived on the transporter pad on my Enterprise, as I am almost certain he did, you -- or rather, my Captain -- would have been waiting for him. No one would dare harm him in the presence of the Captain."

"Oh," the Captain says quietly. "Oh, well... but you mean... your Jim, he would think Spock is a slave, right?"

"His slave, Captain," Spock corrects. "As I said, he is my Master."

"I don't think... my Spock would take too well to that."

Spock quirks an eyebrow. "Do not alarm yourself, Sir. My Master is strong. He would have no trouble disarming a Vulcan, even one who was not trained as a slave. And if not... would your Spock harm you? Even another version of you?"

"No," the Captain says quietly. "He's my... lover."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. Mr. Scott will make things right."

The Captain nods. "Christ. Well... I don't know what to do now. Is there anything I can, uh... do to make you more comfortable? Are you hungry?"

"No, Sir. But perhaps if you would..." Spock hesitates.

"What?"

"You are, of course, welcome to refuse, Sir, if this request makes you uncomfortable. But this experience is extremely taxing, and I find myself unaccustomed to being without the protection and... comfort, of my Master."

The Captain raises his eyebrows. "Protection and comfort? I won't let anyone hurt you, Spock. No one would _want_ to hurt you. The crew respects you. As for comfort, um... I don't.... did you want to cuddle?"

"Cuddle, Sir?"

"You know. In the bed. Cuddle... snuggle... that sort of thing."

"Sir, if I may make a suggestion."

"Certainly."

"In my world, when my Master and I are in private as we are now, it is his custom to... lay his hand here," Spock explains, very gently lifting the Captain's wrist, so as not to offend, and placing the Captain's hand on his head. "Or here," he adds, pointing to his collar.

"Oh. Right." The Captain's hand remains still, resting on the top of Spock's head for a moment, and it is almost comical, but then his fingers begin to move, petting and gently scratching Spock's scalp, and there is a touch of familiarity in the movement. It makes him think of those best days, the days when his Master is feeling kind, when he treats Spock like a most treasured pet, stroking and teasing him. On those days, he almost forgets the constant threats of his world, the deep fear that maybe someone will one day overtake the Captain, that he will fall into the hands of a crueller Master. Spock lets a low sound escape his lips, his eyes returning to the floor and his head resting lightly against the Captain's knee. "Spock... is this collar... symbolic of ownership?"

"Yes, Sir," Spock murmurs, keeping as still as possible in hopes that the Captain will not stop. He feels his cock beginning to rise, nudging at the slit in his robes. "All slaves wear a collar, but the designs indicate that I belong to a particular Master. To you." The Captain exhales shakily, and his hand drops to stroke over the metal, over the sensitive nape of Spock's neck. He moans, softly, and the head of his cock peeks out from the fabric of the robes.

"Um..." The Captain coughs. "You're, uh... showing."

"Yes, Sir. Though you are not my Master, your touch is pleasing. I hope that I do not offend you?"

"Uh, no, it's just... is that... normal? For it to... come out, like that?"

"Slave garments are designed specifically for the purpose. Slaves do not enjoy the privacy that humans do. We cannot hide our arousal. Humans are welcome to mock, or make use of it, as they see fit."

"Oh," the Captain says quietly, a sadness in his tone. Spock allows his gaze to slide just a little to the right, though, and he sees that the Captain is responding favorably to the sight if not to Spock's words.

"I see that you are also aroused, Sir. Might I be of assistance?"

The Captain... squeaks. It is a most undignified sound, and if Spock were not impeccably trained both as a slave and as a Vulcan, he might even be tempted to smile. "I don't want to cheat on... I mean, we're _monogamous_... and I know Spock really cares about..."

"Respectfully, Sir, I am Spock. And this is only a logical action. Your Spock is in my world currently, where I am most certain that my Master is using him in whatever ways he sees fit."

The Captain gulps a little. "He wouldn't hurt..."

"No. My Captain... cares for me," Spock admits quietly. "In his way." He does not think it is a betrayal, for after all this _is_ the Captain, and it is a private confidence that can be kept between the four.

"Right. So..."

"He would only hurt him in the most pleasurable of ways," Spock promises. "Especially once he discerns that your Spock is not accustomed to slavery, and thus not to be punished for his ignorance of protocol. Now... if I may?" Spock raises a questioning eyebrow, reaching for Jim's pants.

"Oh, Jesus. Um, yeah, go ahead, I guess that's.... oh God," the Captain moans as Spock immediately relieves his erection and sinks down on it with the exact combination of pressure and suction and tongue that his own Captain enjoys. "Uh, what do you mean by... by pleasurable... I mean, does he... oh God, Spock, I..."

It's gratifying to have a version of the Captain this demonstrative, this given to praise. He pulls off with a little slurp, still stroking the Captain firmly, slowly, with his hand, feeling the pleasure and gratitude radiating through his telepathic senses. There's not the same sense of dominance, of power, he normally gets from touching his Master, but there's a hint of it, a strain beneath the surface that makes Spock hungry to expose it. He can be a little wicked here, he realizes. His Master will never find out. "I mean any number of things," Spock replies calmly, tugging at the Captain's cock with a little twist at the end of each stroke. "Sometimes it is a flogging. Sometimes he simply uses his hands and teeth on my body. He has other implements to use on my genitalia and on my nipples. There is the paddle, and the belt. The hand spanking is a particular reward... very intimate."

  
The Captain is staring openly now, his jaw slack. "Spock, wait, you have to... stop," he says, and Spock instantly releases the Captain's erection, waiting patiently. "God, I mean, I've never... but maybe if you wanted to, um.... a hand spanking, I could... I mean I've popped a girl on the ass before when I... it couldn't be too hard."

"No," Spock agrees, the ghost of a smile on his face. "Would you prefer me to lie over your lap, Sir, or would you enjoy spanking me while engaging in intercourse?"

"Oh fuck," the Captain moans. "The second one, God, get up here, get naked..."

That bit of command in his tone has Spock shucking his clothing before the Captain can finish making the order, climbing up and sinking down on the Captain's prick with his thighs clenching the Captain's torso.

"Holy _fuck_ ," the Captain moans. "You're already..." There's awe in his tone as he reaches back, traces a finger around Spock's lubed opening, stretched around his cock.

"Every morning, Sir, and throughout the day as needed, as per imperial regulation."

"Oh Jesus _fucking_..." Something comes loose, then, in the Captain, and there's the savage press of teeth into the fleshy join of neck and shoulder as a bare hand comes down hard on his ass. Spock makes a high-pitched, needy, animal noise, and he starts to move, bouncing in the Captain's lap, filled with joy and a sense of _rightness_ now that he's finagled this. The Captain mutters incomprehensible phrases into his skin as he spanks Spock over and over, making his skin tingle, his sphincter muscle clench around the Captain's cock. When the Captain comes, Spock's erection is still a deep green against the Captain's belly, and the Captain strokes him hard and fast as they kiss sloppily, needy, moaning into each other's mouths. Spock's whine for permission is immediately answered, and he comes in thick spurts all over the gold of the Captain's uniform shirt. He tries to lift himself up, to attend to the stained fabric with his mouth, but the Captain stops him, holding Spock close his chest, tenderly kissing his neck as his cock softens inside Spock. He will take this tenderness back to the world from whence he came, and though he will look back on this scene fondly he will not miss it. For he will find this thread of beauty and lightness within his own Captain, within a darker world, and he will hold onto it for the rest of his days.


End file.
